Ghost
by YourMystery
Summary: I'm the ghost in your house. Calling your name. My memory lingers. You'll never be the same... (с) Depeche Mode - Ghost


Figure in the dark cherry mantle went to the door, faintly whispered spell and opened it.

Strangely enough, today she showed up a little earlier than usual. Maybe what happened? Although, why do I care about that? I'm dead. I cannot feel anything. But I felt a little, when I was alive.

Dropping the mantle from her shoulders, she as usual, in a businesslike way, hangs it on a hook. Only surviving coat hook by the door. Second dangles on one nail.

The first time she came here, the only thing said in the void space: «I'm not going to change anything here, Professor". If I had the opportunity, would have raised an eyebrow. True.

Since then, she did not utter a single word in this house. Even the book returns to the same slot from which it was pulled. Is she sentimental? I have no idea. Somehow, I wasn't particularly interested in what she was there, when I was alive. Well, and now? Now, as you understand, I'm too dead to be interested in anything.

I'm not even a ghost, not sure I'm even a spirit. But I am something. I do not know "what". Time flows differently where I am now. I'm almost part of the house. At least, I think so.

I do not remember how long she comes here, but after Potter on the doorstep, nobody, but her did not appear. She is staying here too often. Alive, I certainly would be surprised seeing her silhouette in this house. So someone who, as Granger, I did not expect. But again, I do not feel anything, for a long time.

I wonder how many years have passed since the day of my death?! Not less than five, no doubt.

And all these years she visited my house by once in a week here. For several hours and sometimes, overnight.

The appearance Granger to my house has become so familiar and typical, that it seems as if the walls slowly impregnated her smell and lose my own. She probably knows it, because Granger is touching things weightless. Perhaps she's afraid to wipe my fingerprints, with her little fingers. Careful guest. Sometimes I think that I wait for her arrival. However, I died I can't wait for someone. Right? But Granger behaves like she is waiting for someone.

Me or what?

Alas, Miss Granger, in this regard, you are too naïve. Actually you are not Granger anymore. I have noticed the gold band on your ring finger couple years ago. Probably, Weasley? Predictable. Interestingly, he is not jealous that she spends the night in the house of a professor? Although, given the fact that the professor died, Weasley don't care.

Meanwhile, my grown-up guest starts her regular ritual.

At first, she will sit in my chair and thumbed through the yellowed pages of the Daily Prophet, which I left on my desk. Then, come to my rack and would get one of the dusty tomes. If I would have the opportunity, I would slap her fingers for this blatant invasion of my personal library. In all of this, now – it is her library. Personally, I guess.

Otherwise, where did she get such regular access to my miserable refuge?

Maybe she bought it from eternal memory to her harmful professor? Or maybe Potter helped her.

In fact - is not important. I will not grieve, if it will crash down. Too many lousy memories I have about this house. But even after death, I'm still hovering here. I suppose it's all because of her.

She went to the second floor. Rushed. This is my least favorite part. It consists in the fact that Granger, sorry, Weasley, lies on my bed and starts to cry. So... feminine. Sometimes, she just lies quietly, letting the tears slowly roll down her face and dripping onto the bedspread. And sometimes, muffled whimpers as now. After so many years, cannot stop crying.

Compresses the pillow, then apologetically, corrects her and returns to its original position. Kneels before bed, and smoothes knocked down blanket. Calmed down a bit. Usually her tantrums do not last long: Hermione steel shutter. Could give five points to Gryffindor, for the ability to quickly pull herself together.

Removes the ring from her finger and throws aside.

Here you have the reason, why she came earlier than usual.

How strange to see that when something happens, she immediately runs to me. No ... not really to me. More precisely in to my house ... no ... no longer mine. In general, to where I once was.

I wonder if I can do it today. Or maybe again from her sobs she will stubbornly sit on the floor, clutching his shoulders with his hands?

I'm approaching closer to her figure and whispered in her ear her name:

_«Hermione»._

Subsided and swallowed. Heard what?

I tried again:

_«Hermione»._

She gasps and turns her head:

«S-Severus?» Whispered Granger into the darkness of the room.

How strange sounds my name from her mouth. Yes, and she suddenly blushed more. Is my name makes you so much embarrassment, Hermione? I bet the three of you, still call me just: «Snape».

A name, Hermione? How many times could you imagine the scene in which you look into my eyes, quietly addressed me by name ?

Sniffles and leans on the headboard . She will hold this position all night long.

Nestlings apparently quarreled seriously, if she stayed the night. Nothing special. I'm sure that they will reconcile. A few hours later, (like it was at the last time) she will find her ring and proudly will go to the street. That's the whole Gryffindor.

Semi- sitting lies down, her eyes are closed. But I do know that she's not asleep, just napping for fifteen minutes.

Not surprisingly, Hermione, I've always slept restlessly in this house.

Approaching closer and examining her features, I have noticed first wrinkles. You frown too often, Mrs. Weasley. You can get old quickly, as I did. But, she learned how to tame her hair. I always mentally called her «locator» of the golden trio.

Sighs. She's already tired of crying, but her tears are still rolling down. Merlin's sake, how long you are going to cry, Granger? Yes! For me you'll always be Granger! I'm sorry, but Weasley family name does not suit you, Hermione. Nevertheless, I hope you're happy.

She even forgot to take the shawl. And since when "Miss foresight" became so clumsy? She took a tent to the wedding, but the handkerchief, to the house in which she basically crying - forgot.

In the third drawer I had a couple.

She never opened it, considers that it is improper? Um, and like come into the house of the deceased and cry - it's decently.

It's really dark outside, late night, as I understood.

Maybe I should try again? She did not seem so much frightened.

Pull something that should be my hand and try to pat on the head, feel the softness of her hair.

_«Hermione»._

She flinches. Raises her eyes and they filled with tears immediately. Looks straight at me, with trembling lips whispers:

«P-Professor...».


End file.
